


Weimaraner

by skewedupwards



Category: Trailer Park Boys
Genre: Alcohol Withdrawal, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Childhood Trauma, Confusion, Delirium, Hospitalization, Metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:21:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skewedupwards/pseuds/skewedupwards
Summary: Beaming lights on the ceiling, dressed in white, with canines bared and fur bristling. Sickly yellow, they said.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Weimaraner

**Author's Note:**

> written in 1 hour in the ao3 box except for a few edits baby!  
> read the tags pls that's where all the much needed trigger warnings are

Julian did remember the gun, how heavy it was in his tiny hands and exactly how much time it took for the twitching to stop. Death wasn't an instant thing. He hadn't cried in front of his dad, because he didn't want to get his ass kicked again, but fuck. His entire body felt as soiled as the fucking floor was with blood still slowly dripping and the eyes still open. (Or about as soiled as the carpet had been.) He rarely thought about it now.

When the footsteps lumbered away, Julian had put the gun back in its drawer, or on the table or somewhere, knelt in front of it and tried to lower the eyelids over the terrified open eyes. Though they were still warm, he'd done little to keep the lids shut. It kept staring ahead forever terrified.

It took until maybe a few years later, when his dad had long been out of the picture, for Julian to encounter a little dog again. At first he wanted nothing to do with it, but he liked how the rum felt, and he certainly liked how the pup's head laid in his lap. He'd gently stroke its ears between his index and his thumb. It was a grey little puppy with a forehead like a dome, and blue eyes almost like his own, and he kind of liked how it mimicked his every move. It stood wagging its tail next to him, Ricky, and Bubbles, then would bound after them when they ran to rip some Helix on their cassettes. His grandmother never noticed how much he filled up his glass daily, which he didn't mind at all, and the first time he and Ricky got really drunk the little dog gently licked Julian's nose when he got hungover the next morning.

Bubbles didn't like how the dog chased his kitties, but they never got hurt, nor barked at much. Julian's stare and build (and Ricky) had always done most of the work without need for snappy insults, and the dog mirrored him always. As it grew, it got stronger, maybe bristling slightly, with those piercing intelligent eyes. No one ever seemed to comment on its presence, which Julian didn't mind at all.

Halloween went past... the dog crept away to hide when Mr. Lahey crashed the car. Julian sipped from his drink. Maybe it was his idea, maybe it wasn't, fuck if he remembered.

Things get greasier when you grow up. Julian remembered pulling back Ricky the best he could, spit flying from his lips as he speared insults at whoever he was yelling at now. He could fix this deal with clever wording. Ricky struggled and a pummeling fist struck Julian right in the temple instead. Ricky flew into a rage. For the first time he heard it growl. Julian got a hold of himself, ears ringing like hell, and helped out Ricky. A mark like his onyx ring was imprinted in that guy's face for a week.

Ricky stood in the kitchen with the butter knife over the stove while Julian sat at the table, stroking the dog's soft ear between his index and his thumb. It turned its head and licked his hand, drawing a small smile out of him, and didn't seem to notice the cacophonous barks outside.

"Listen to that. I don't understand why we keep fuckin' missing," Ricky said.

Julian took a sip from his rum and coke.

"I don't know, man."

"Get over here, it's your toke."

The gun had been heavy in his hands, big and calloused this time, and _I saw the grey dog, grown and tattered, like me, staring back at me with forever terrified eyes._

Julian didn't shoot and did the jail time. He didn't like to think about why he hadn't pulled the trigger. The ice cubes swirled in his drink, almost empty, and he reached under the bunk to stroke his dog's ear just a little.

Now Julian remembered clearly - the wheel of fortune, reversed, his dog among them, the jackal. Tower struck and crumbling. Change, it meant, unwanted change. Chaos. What else had she said?

They were all dressed in white and canines were bared

a low rumbling growl

They said it was the liquor that made him sick, but there was no way. Liquor could get you drunk if you weren't careful, like he was, but never would it hurt him this much. Never would it bite him.

He'd gone over it. It wasn't liquor that made his problems, it was just himself, and sometimes other things.

Like shrooms. Was Trinity his? Fuck if he knew. Ricky was her dad. He didn't like to think about it. He didn't want anything to do with Lucy. The shrooms had been her idea, hadn't they? Fuck did swish make your head hurt. She was grown now, wasn't she?

She was grown, and he'd done the jail time

_"Is everything alright, Julian?"_   
  


Right. He was in a police interrogation room. He could tell because the lights were bright and white above him _why do they have uniforms_ and the walls were cold _these fucking pigs are gonna kill my friend_

_"Your friend Ricky left you something, do you want to see it?"_

foaming at the mouth staring ahead forever terrified

Julian's lip twitched. "Ricky?"

_They're trying to kill him. They want to kill him. I know how American cops are._

He fought them off, put an imprinted onyx ring mark into the fucker's face for sure, but they called backup and he was wrestled down. Something wrapped tight around his arms and ankles. _Prison bunk squeaking under me, they've put me back in jail_

his grey dog barked again and again, spittle flying from its bared teeth

still

still and snarling he heard the dog whining, drowning, and saw the Monte Carlo in the river. Jacob and the two dicks had been okay, but he hadn't checked for the dog. You don't put dogs in trunks.

_"He's in the fucking trunk, Rick,"_

His breaths wheezed in his chest. His stomach hurt with something poisonous. Why wasn't Ricky listening to him?

_"Ricky, listen to me, for fuck's sakes he stayed in the trunk-"_

He wasn't saying what he wanted to say with his tongue like sand and his throat crackling. Please, Ricky, fucking say something. You always say something. Something stung his arm. His lungs spasmed in heavy jagged jolts until they were completely squeezed of air, and this helped him clear up a little, looking up at the big white lights. His ears rang madly. How long had it been?

"Julian? They told me to come, are you okay?"

Oh, thank fuck, Bubbles was there. Something within Julian stopped snarling. In a comatose, artificial way, every single movement of his was weak.

"Bubs, man, where's the dog?"

"What dog?"

"I know I didn't shoot him."

His head sank into the pillow, and he tugged weakly at his restraints before his limbs fell into the bed, too heavy to lift. His wrists were sore. He was sore all over. Still his eyelids were glued open, eyes golden and dirty.

"Bubs?" he slurred.

"What, Julian?"

"'Have you seen Ricky?"

"He's on his way."

"Why did they put me here?"

"You're just a bit sick."

"I wanna go home, Bubs."

"I know, Julian, and soon you will. Right now you've just... gotta calm down."

"They tied me down, Bubs, can you please mix me a drink?"


End file.
